


Night In

by heyshalina



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Breaking Bad References, Flirting, M/M, netflix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-09 02:30:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6885490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyshalina/pseuds/heyshalina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miller just wanted a night to relax by himself while his stupid roommate was away. He'd prepared for shameless relaxation, drinking a beer and watching some Netflix. He hadn't prepared for some adorable, sexiled nerd to show up at his door, looking for a place to sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night In

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on tumblr awhile ago. I found it and decided it should have a home here, too.
> 
> First fic for the 100. Probably not the last.

Miller had just gotten comfortable, so of course that’s when his night goes to shit. He had stolen a beer from his roommate’s fridge–bastard was staying at his girlfriend’s over the weekend, thank all of the gods–and loaded the next episode of Breaking Bad on his laptop. He had even stripped out of his day clothes and put on a muscle tee and sweatpants without any boxers because _he could do what he wanted_ and he was going to _relax_ , goddamnit.

It feels like he’s taken one sip of his beer and just rested his asscheeks on his bed (pillows fluffed. Fluffed. This is deliberate, shameless relaxation) when there’s a knock on his door, tentative but hard, nearly desperate. So what if Miller lets out a genuine groan of despair and frustration? So what if he flails his feet a little in childish upset? He is an adult. This was going to be his _him_ time, the real kind, with the binge watching Netflix and eating Cheese Puffs that. That all men do.

Miller takes another swig of his beer and places it on his bedside table, pushing his laptop aside and shuffling barefoot to the door. Fucking Connor is gone for one night for sure, maybe even two, and he still has to deal with other people. He swings open the door and catches it in his right shoulder, leaning out slightly. “What.”

The kid standing on the other side is obviously embarrassed; his hands are stuffed in the pockets of a ridiculous cardigan and his eyes are trained on the floor. Miller thinks he recognizes him from floor meetings, but he’s never talked to him. He looks up in surprise when Miller speaks harshly, smooth black hair falling over his eyes. Miller swallows.

“What,” he says again, softer this time. The kid takes his hands out of his pockets, wrings them together.

“I’m Monty,” he says, holding out his hand. Miller looks at it, raising an eyebrow. Monty lets it drop and slap against his thigh. “Uh, look, this is weird, but I need somewhere to sleep.”

“You need somewhere to sleep.” Miller repeats in a deadpan. Monty’s lips part like he’s going to say something, his eyebrows slightly furrowed, but he stops. He bites his lip, and Miller nearly slams the door shut on him.

“Yeah, we don’t really know each other, that could be. An issue.” Monty looks at the floor again, his voice defeated. “Um. You’re Nate, right? Your name is Nate?”

“Miller,” he says, and Monty purses his lips and nods, shoving his hands back in his pockets.

“Yeah, yeah, Miller, you’re, yeah, that sounds a lot…better.” Monty gulps, rubs the back of his head. “Okay, my roommate Jasper met this girl, Maya–”

“I really don’t care,” Miller starts to say, and Monty flails a bit.

“No, but, okay, the point is that I was totally sexiled. Sexiled from my room so my best friend could make loving, sweet relations from this girl from North Campus, and she’s staying the night, and I can absolutely _not_.”

“That sounds like a problem.” Miller says, making no move to open or close the door.

“And Harper is at some convention, her roommate is at a party at Weather so I can’t just sleep there, and I asked Atom and he said that your roommate was out for the night and that you’d have an extra bed.”

“You’re right,” Miller says.

“So.” Monty wrings his hands again. “Do you think that I, that I could maybe sleep here? Just for the night.”

Miller takes a long look at the kid; Monty tries not to squirm or feel overwhelmingly vulnerable, standing in the hallway with just his clothes and no shoes. He hopes Miller doesn’t see the pillow he has against the wall with a tee-shirt and pajama pants stuffed inside. That would be awkward.

Miller narrows his eyes. “What are you, a freshman?”

“No!” Monty snaps, and then closes his eyes, making an obvious effort to breathe. “No, I, I am not a freshman, I am a sophomore.”

“Big difference,” Miller scoffs, and Monty’s ears grow red. He opens his mouth to retort ( _a mature sophomore. Mature_ ), but then sees Miller’s mouth spread in an easy smile. He lets out whatever air is stuck in his lungs and straightens his back a little. Miller huffs and opens the door a little wider, stepping back into the room and leaving the door open. 

“Come in before you preppie yourself to death,” Miller waves him in, and Monty scrambles to pick his stuff up off of the hallway floor and rush into the room, closing the door behind him.

Miller raises an eyebrow at the stuffed pillow in Monty’s hands. “I came prepared, okay?” Monty explains. “I was ready to sleep on the dirty lounge couch and leave my pockets open to the pickings of the vultures this school calls students.”

“You wouldn’t survive,” Miller says offhandedly. “You’re too scrawny.”

“Yeah, well, not all of us can…lift train cars, or run marathons carrying the elderly, or…whatever it is you do.” Miller turns around from where he was finagling his stuff on the bedside table and faces Monty, who is standing in the middle of the room, looking lost. Suddenly all the blood in Monty’s face rushes into his ears, and his hands slip on his pillow, making him spaz to catch it. Miller is sure that he’s either gonna throw himself out the window or give Miller a hug. He’s not sure which one he wants.

“Oh,” he says, and Miller furrows his eyebrows. Monty ducks his head, and it drives Miller crazy. “You’re. You’re not wearing. Underwear. You’re. Okay. Um.”

Miller’s face blushes, and he pulls his tee down over the waistline of his pants, officially flustered. Goddamnit, he just wanted to have a beer and lay down for awhile. _Relaxation_. He points to Connor’s bed, refusing to look anywhere but the ugly ass carpet. “That’s where Connor sleeps. I mean usually. Not tonight. Just use the top blanket.”

“Yeah, okay.” Monty scrambles to the bed, placing his stuff down. Miller moves to Connor’s fridge to bend down and grab Monty a beer, or a soda, or like seltzer water, or something. He doesn’t have seltzer water, but he’d go out and buy some. All movement noises stop, and Miller stills in his search. He soundlessly grabs a beer and straightens up, closing the fridge and turning around. Monty’s gaze quickly averts from Miller to the curtains hanging in front of the window.

“I, um, I really like your shades.” Monty says. “Real nice room.”

“It’s fucking awful,” Miller says, and Monty laughs. “Were you checking me out?”

“Would it be bad to say yes?” Monty says after a moment. “Because I can say no. Absolutely, positively no, I did not find your ass attractive at all. Oh, God. Actually, I can leave now–“

“Do you want a beer?” Miller cuts him off, holding it out to him. The kid is clearly not twenty-one yet, but Miller doesn’t care. He’s not twenty-one yet either, but Connor is. Monty swallows whatever lump was residing in his throat.

“Yes. Yes, please.” Monty opens the beer and practically downs the thing. He tilts his head back and Miller watches his Adam’s apple move. He can’t help but laugh, and it nearly makes Monty spit out his beer, and then they’re both laughing, what the hell–

“Do you want to watch Breaking Bad with me?” Miller asks, and this makes Monty crack up even more, and god, his laugh is nothing short of beautiful. Monty nods and Miller smiles because, yeah, okay. He sits on his bed and lets Monty crawl up beside him, and he places the laptop on his legs but tilts it toward Monty.

“It’s okay,” Monty says. “I’ve already seen it. Twice, actually. Peoples’ Netflix binging willpower is weak.”

“Is it sad at the end?” Miller finds himself asking. It’s silent for a minute, and Miller looks to see Monty staring at him.

“Only if you want it to be,” Monty says, and Miller grins, a small quiver of the lips.

They watch four episodes of Breaking Bad before it’s two in the morning and Miller realizes that they’ve finished their beers, and Monty and him are leaning into each other, Monty’s head tipped sleepily on Miller’s shoulder. Miller smiles slightly to himself.

Monty’s cell phone goes off, an obnoxious and obstructive tune that startles the shit of Miller. He lunges forward, but Monty catches his hand in his, and answers his phone with the other. Miller slowly sits up but stays on the bed, watching Monty.

He can hear another voice through the speaker. “Monty, bro, where are you? I’m sorry I totally sexiled you, man, but Maya and I ended up deciding to watch a movie afterwards, and you didn’t come back, and I got worried. All clear. Do you need to come back?”

Monty looks at Miller, and then down at his lap, smiling. “Nah, man. I think I’m good. Have fun, okay?”

Monty hangs up the phone and tosses it beside him on the bed. He looks at Miller and bites his lip. Miller clears his throat and wants another beer.

“We can keep going,” Monty says hesitantly, gesturing to the laptop. “If you want.”

Miller shrugs and moves back against the wall, shifting and brushing up against Monty’s shoulder. Monty reaches over him and grabs the laptop to pull it onto their laps, placing it halfway on both their thighs. Miller lets him press play to start another episode and sinks a little more into the pillows.

“You know what would make this perfect?” Monty asks. Miller looks at him, eyebrows raised in questioning. “Hot chocolate. With marshmallows, in a ridiculously big mug. I mean, beer is great, but there’s just something–”

“I can get hot chocolate,” Miller says, starting to shift. “I think there’s some in the lounge–”

Monty grabs his sleeve and pulls him gently back against the wall. He forces Miller’s hand onto his own thigh and keeps his hand on top. “Don’t worry about it,” he shrugs, nonchalant and all smiley. “Next time.”

Miller nods and after a minute lets Monty drop his head back on his shoulder. “Yeah,” he says, perfectly comfortable. “Next time.”


End file.
